Magma Dragon's Heir

Chapter 125 - Assumptions and Guesses

55th of Season of Fire, 57th year of the 32nd cycleRose’s heart galloped. Something was stuck in her throat as she stared at her empty hands. A mountain-sized rock, based on how she was feeling. The young woman opened her mouth, but failed to utter a word.

“Are there any manabeast ambushers in the geysers?” Jas’s voice trembled, and Rose’s eyes grew wet.

Her lower lip wobbled.

She was suffocating, despite the fact that several seconds without air could never harm her body.

“Don’t spew random nonsense!” Obi roared. “He’s fine. There are no manabeasts that dwell in the geysers. The bestiary would never hide such important information, otherwise nobody would believe anything inside.”

Obi was right. Rose wiped her nose and eyes.

“We got separated in the Valley of the Lost, Newstar is competent in combat, and we can handle ourselves.” Her voice trembled, her gut told her a calamity had befallen them, but she had to think positive. Newstar was alive. They were alive. That was the first, fundamental requirement of life. As long as you are alive, things will get better. They had to.

“And how will he find his way out?” Jasmine just had to ask the one question which Rose’s mind refused to entertain.

“If he kills too many manabeasts, the champions are bound to drag him out so he doesn’t ruin the danger zone for other students.” Obi’s words sounded like a joke, but there was some truth to them. Newstar’s elemental affinities made him a god of war in the making. Earth for defense, fire for offense. Both elements were somewhat suppressed in the dual water and air environment of the valley, but he seemed unaffected, or he was even scarier on neutral terrain.

“Obi, you sparred with him, and you think he can do it?” Rose asked, and her friend nodded.

“I’m positive. Newt’s a monster. Besides, you’ve seen how easily he dealt with the manabeasts attacking us whenever he got involved.”

Obi was right, of course. Rose had seen Newstar fight. Whenever they encountered manabeasts, he stood to the side, watching them like their battle was a child’s game. She had thought that they were dragging him down more than once, but she could also see another truth.

Newstar would leave their team as soon as the next elite tryouts happened. She was also destined to become an elite one day; once she mastered her healing arts to a satisfactory level. But Newstar was different. He didn’t need to develop special skills. His martial prowess was something the order valued, since they could enter him into various tournaments, challenges, and competitive secret realm explorations. The opportunities were greater than anything she would receive, but the risks involved were also greater than she would ever dare take.

Rose calmed down. Those thoughts reassured her enough. Her hands still shook, and her heart was still beating too quickly, too strongly, but she was fine. And Newstar would be fine too.

*** Thıs text ıs hosted at NoveI-Fire.ɴet

Newt was not fine. Not fine at all. He had to sit down and rest from the mental strain. He closed his eyes and drew deep breaths. Having someone with a compass to follow made navigating the myst relatively simple, but having to rely on your own instincts was another thing entirely.

Worse, the Valley of the Lost seemed to have figured out what he was doing, so the right and wrong paths merged, converged, and changed every couple of breaths.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Newt mulled over that idea. It seemed the best way to explain what was happening to him, how the directions kept changing, and how his innate spatial awareness suddenly became erratic, useless trash.

The likeliest and the most obvious method seemed to be meddling with Newt’s sense of danger somehow. The unease and discomfort born from the dissonance between the obvious safe path, which was everything but safe, and the dangerous path, which was an unknown, was ruinous for the psyche for some reason.

Newt considered the question, and the first answer to come to mind was for him to ignore his sense of danger somehow. If he could do that, the confusion should pass.

Making a tool or a spell seal to solve the issue also seemed like a valid solution, but Newt had nothing on him. A glaive strapped to his back, a short-sword hanging from his waist, three ropes looped around his abdomen, a sack full of mist crystals hanging from his belt, and a few miscellaneous, everyday trinkets. Improvising a solution out of such mundane components was out of the question; as for scribing a seal to find his path, that was beyond his current ability.

The problem was, Newt didn’t know how advanced his knowledge needed to be to solve or counter the riddle of an entire danger zone. He guessed incredibly high, and that level was decades or centuries beyond him, so dwelling on it was pointless.

Newt’s thoughts wandered, making guesses and discarding them, but he always returned to the same esoteric concept he didn’t understand - sense of danger.

The answer seemed obvious. Newt tried the same approach as when he was developing his mana sense. His master was absent, but he wasn’t doing anything dangerous. The tendril of mana entered the earth and moved around, but there was nothing unusual, save for the ground being heavily saturated with water energy, and having thrice the usual amount of air energy.

He extended a tendril into the air. Earth was a poor choice of energy to let drift in the mist, so he chose fire. The abundance of water drowned the tendril, but air would have strangled earth almost completely at his level of proficiency. Newt solved the problem by sending more energy through it, and the near-invisible thread of flame extended. Newt slowly turned, letting the short tendril dance in the air, feeling in all directions, but he sensed nothing out of the ordinary.

The air was naturally full of air-aligned energy, heavy with water from all the vapor, and had traces of fire-attributed mana, but there was no danger in the air, nor did the Valley of the Lost try to use his floating thread of mana to entrap him.

Newt’s conclusion was probably correct, but less than useless for his current needs. He considered the matter a moment longer, then decided on an experimental approach.

He stood and closed his eyes, focusing his attention inwards, then he took a step in an uncomfortable direction. His skin crawled, his gut twisted, his heart rate quickened, and his muscles tensed.

Newt’s body knew danger lurked there, somewhere just beyond his perception, and it prepared accordingly. Then he took a step back, heading in what the Valley of the Lost considered the right direction for him.

The unease disappeared; his bodily functions reverted to normal. The consequences and byproducts of his anxiety were obvious, even if he missed some of the more subtle sensations.

Newt moved, alternating between going in the safe direction and in the dangerous direction, delving into every part of his body he could find. The changes were easy to find, and they grew more numerous the more attention he paid to each body part. However, the spikebacks pulling all that weight eluded him.